


Don't Look Back

by swanhooked



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: cs angst, cs reunion, underworld fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6287323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanhooked/pseuds/swanhooked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do I have to do?” she growled, keeping her eyes trained on her pirate.<br/>“Oh, I do love it when they say that,” he sneered. “The rules here are quite simple: Don’t look back.”<br/>“You see those waters below? Every step forward, you will come across a soul taking the form of someone you know. Every step back, well that’s when I lower lover boy over there towards the river.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Look Back

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: So I started writing this before the additional sneak peeks were released. The only (and main) inspiration was the promo at the end of last Sunday’s ep. There’s now a line I added/tweaked from the newer scene with Hades but other than that this is just my twist on the scene we’re all dying for.
> 
> CS reunion at the end. Can’t guarantee there will be no tears. One-shot.

She hadn’t stopped running since she saw the light emanating from the opening up ahead. The dark cavernous walls tunneled her vision as she ran, the map Meg had given her nearly crumbled to pieces in her fist. She felt so close. She could feel him. Magic or love or both lit her path and guided her heart to the right, then left, then right. 

She pushed her feet to go faster, faster, ignoring their protests until she was through the opening of the chamber. Her body halted, nearly falling forwards as a gasp caught in her throat. She skidded to the edge where she saw the smoke and mist billowing from the depths of the sea of a sickly green color below. Fire blazed from 5 towers, each with a ghastly-looking gargoyle crouched at the top. The towers surrounded a stone and metal structure that looked like a giant gear though she didn’t bloody care what it was for at the center of it was a man dressed in black--his frame forever recognizable to Emma, from his dark hair down to his boots. Try as she might, she couldn’t have braced herself for what she saw. 

His body hung on a large rusted chain bolted so high she couldn’t see where it began. It wrapped around his torso, suffocating his arms while his feet were left dangling above the gaping hole that led straight to the river below. His head slumped forwards and she couldn’t see his face.

Her heart dropped at the sight of seeing him so defenseless but she shoved her emotions down and focused on a way to get to him. She frantically looked around and ran to the first path that led from her side of the cave to the center. 

The stone beam was only half a foot wide and she had to turn sideways to move across it. “Hang on!” She called to Killian, desperately praying he could hear her, to give him some semblance of hope.  _She was so close._ He _was so close._ “I’m coming for you!”

Before she could step further, a familiar voice echoed off the dank walls, sending a chill down her spine. 

“Emma Swan. How nice of you to join us.” Hades’ voice filled the cavern. Her eyes scanned the contraption that held Killian captive to find the suit-clad freak nowhere to be found. 

“Oh no, you won’t find me here--or at least where you can  _see_  me,” he chuckled, the deep bass seeming to be right in her ear. “No, I can watch this from the comfort of my throne. Glass of wine, feet up--”

“Shut up!” She yelled, the noise bouncing off the walls. She ignored the belittling laugh she received in response and continued moving.

But as soon as she slid another foot forward, the sudden sound of metal turning snapped her head up just in time to watch Killian’s body drop downwards about a foot. 

“Killian!” She screamed, her heart pounding out of her chest as the reality set in. All the villains they had encountered and none had been as vicious as he. Hades gave evil its very name.

“Tsk tsk, Emma. I’d’ve thought you wiser than this. Surely you know it won’t be that easy.”

Her fists clenched at her sides as she kept her feet still. “What do I have to do?” she growled, keeping her eyes trained on her pirate. 

“Oh, I do love it when they say that,” he sneered. “The rules here are quite simple: Don’t look back.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she retorted, unable to censor herself. “Stop with the riddles.”

“Ohh feisty, I like that in a woman,” he flirted. “It was not a lie, Ms. Swan, but I shall give you a hint since you asked so nicely. You see those waters below?” He seemed to wait until she hesitantly looked over the edge. It was then that she noticed the white, ghost-like creatures floating through the waves. “That would be the River of Death--or if you so like, River of Souls. Right now, that pirate of yours still has one, or what is left of one, I suppose. In any case, I’ve tired of him--he refuses to do anything fun.” She had to hide her smile, knowing the fight Killian would have put up with his torturer. “So, I have decided, since you’re so Hell-bent---Ha see what I did there?---on saving him, I’ll allow you to cross, should you pass my test, of course.” 

She opened her mouth only to shut it when he kept talking. “The test being whether or not you can truly face your past. Every step forward, you will come across a soul taking the form of someone you know. Every step back, well that’s when I lower lover boy over there towards the river and once he touches it, he’ll be a mindless, tormented shell.”

He said it with such satisfaction she wanted to vomit, but her throat was too dry to say anything.

“Oh, and no magic,” he added, as if an afterthought. Something touched her wrist and she looked down to find a black cuff now adorning it. “As your Captain might say, I like a fair fight.” With that, the ghost of his voice disappeared and despite the earthly sounds surrounding her, her world went silent.

She grasped the ring that hadn’t left her neck since that awful night, once again seeking the strength two great men had ingrained into it. Her eyes hadn’t left Killian, whose body still hadn’t moved. She focused on hearing his voice again, holding him again. She was never going to let go of him again once she reached him, no matter how broken he might be. 

She took a deep breath and moved over a step.

Nothing happened.

Slowly, she took another step, unable to keep from eyeing the depths below, her stomach churning in response. When she glanced back up, her shoulders jumped in surprise as she came face to face with a woman with long, brunette hair and glowing chartreuse eyes. 

“Lily?”

“A version of her,” the ghostly figure replied.

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to--”

“Lily” rolled her eyes. “What ‘unfinished business’ could you have with me, Emma?” She said it as if she knew exactly what it was, but her wording made Emma pause. She supposed all unfinished business resided in the heart of the living long before they met death. She briefly wondered just how much business her soul carried. Maybe she was about to find out. 

All of a sudden an image appeared before her. It was a scene she knew all too well, for it had played in her mind for years after it happened. A young Emma was rubbing off the marking Lily had drawn on the inside of her wrist as she walked away from the only friend she’d ever had. Emma watched her adolescent self walk away, the pain in her still tender heart mirroring back into Emma of today. The feeling felt as raw as the night it happened. 

“You betrayed me,” she whispered, the words coming more easily than she anticipated. The image evaporated, replaced by Lily again only now she was the young girl from the memory. “You had a family, people who loved you and you  _lied_  about it. I was thrown back into the foster system because of you.” 

The girl tilted her head, quirking her lips in a taunting smile. “But were you upset about me lying, or because I had something you didn’t?”

The word popped into her head, almost in bold font: Jealousy. She felt it in her gut just as she did that night, only this time she didn’t push it down and cover it up. 

Even at fifteen, Emma had pushed someone away before she understood why and it had cost her what perhaps could have been a real best friend, possibly giving her a completely different life. 

“I was jealous of you, and I thought even if I hadn’t walked away, I couldn’t be around a family I wasn’t a part of.” 

Young Lily smiled and it reminded Emma of when they ran away together, goofing around like the young girls they were, finding friendship in one another before life had knocked both of them down. 

Emma realized she was smiling back when she tasted a tear at the corner of her lip. “But when we met up again so many years later, I realized you had truly been my friend, if only briefly. I wish we could have been more.”

Lily’s apparition disappeared in a light cloud of smoke, its swirls floating upwards and evaporating in the musty air. 

She felt a breath leave her. That wasn’t so bad, she told herself.  _You can do this_. She took another step only to fall back when Neal appeared. She cursed as she heard more than saw the chain move, his body dropping further and making her wince.

This Neal resembled the one she’d first met, his features soft and youthful. “Neal? What--” 

“You still have feelings for me, Emma,” the ghost blurted. 

“Neal, no, I--” She stuttered. Did she really have to do this again? 

“Feelings of resentment, Em. I know they’re there.” 

Resentment. The word left a bitter taste in her mouth. Her eyes avoided the ghost just as a faint image not unlike Lily’s was projected in front of her. A young woman with blonde hair up in a high ponytail and glasses had her back to her, her arms raised in the air. Emma watched the scene unfold silently, anticipating the plummet in her stomach that girl would feel when she realized what Neal had done.

She remembered feeling numb, her chest heavy yet overwhelmingly empty. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t speak. The only love she had had in her life and it was gone within seconds. She watched herself be cuffed and hauled off to jail for a crime she didn’t commit and like a door being locked, she felt her heart begin to close.

“Ah, yes, that’s the one,” the Neal apparition snickered. “So young and naive.” 

“You had your reasons,” she argued. “I know that now.” 

“Still, I left an impression on you, didn’t I? After all, you told me yourself I was the reminder to never trust someone again. How many years did you waste because you couldn’t let me go?” 

She swallowed the lump in her throat. All the hurt, betrayal, and heartbreak came flooding back into her but above all, she felt shame. Shame for having allowed someone that much control over her life. 

“I blamed you for a long time,” she admitted softly. “At first, it was because of what you had done, and when we found each other again, all the pain I had shoved down I had to face again--I told you this, but what I never accepted came later on when I fell in love with Hook.” Her voice was cracking, her emotions rising and getting trapped in her chest. “Which was that you were a big reason why I couldn’t love him as fully as I wanted to. All my fears traced back to you and every other person who’d hurt me and here was someone patiently waiting for me to open up to him and I--I couldn’t do it. Not until everything went to Hell.” 

She huffed at her choice of words. 

Neal hadn’t responded to her, but his usual sly smile was on his lips, eliciting an old flutter in her heart. She thought about the first time she told him she loved him on that sunny day in the park. The moment her future looked bright and full of hope. 

“But I’ll always love you,” she conveyed. “You gave me a son, and he is the sole reason for me being able to do this right now and be the woman I am today, and that will always be because of us.”

A puff of smoke and he was gone, sending a sigh of relief through Emma. She leaned on her knees and breathed for a second. When she looked up, Killian’s body faced more towards her and a glimmer of hope rushed through her at the thought that he could be awake. She quickly straightened to keep going. 

She paused when she was allowed to slide her feet across twice this time. 

“Let’s turn it up a notch, shall we?” came Hades’ sinister voice again. Suddenly there stood a woman in a long flannel coat. She had short brown hair and a bow and arrow slung over her shoulder.

“Mom?” She asked weakly. 

“Hi, Sweetie,” greeted this imitation of her mother. The words were hers, but the voice was all wrong. Too high-pitched and feeble. She waved a hand and Emma expected another memory but what popped up would quickly become much worse. 

They were walking in a castle, its brick walls sophisticated and royal with long tapestries adorning the sides. As they headed down a hallway, Emma was mesmerized by the details of the vision; she could even feel the plush of the carpet beneath her feet. When they came to a door, it opened automatically and an unseeing force pushed Emma forward. 

She stumbled into the round room and when she looked up her eyes were trained on the family portrait on the back wall straight ahead. It was of her parents, Prince Charming and Snow White, and a baby held in Snow’s arms. 

A baby boy, if the blue blanket was any indication. 

It was then that she noticed the crib in the center of the room. Cautiously, she walked toward it. There, swaddled in a knitted white blanket with a blue ribbon sewn into the edge, was the baby from the portrait. He gurgled, his eyes opening to reveal the color of pastel blue--the same as her father’s--and when his tiny limbs moved, the blanket shifted to reveal a name stitched across a corner. 

 _Neal_.

Emma unconsciously stumbled backward and suddenly the vision was snatched away when she heard the dreadful sound of a gear turning and she knew what she had just done. 

“Damn it!” she yelled helplessly. She was back in the cave, her tips of her toes on the edge of the platform. She was about halfway across now and had a better view of Killian. Not knowing if she had imagined it or not, the sound of a faint grunt sent her heart into trembling pulses. 

“Killian! If you can hear me, I’m coming!” she called to him. She looked around for the ghost version of her mother, nearly screaming at her when she reappeared just ahead of her on the scaffold. “What was that?” she demanded.

“Your brother, Neal, of course. We had him after we sent you through the wardrobe.” Her eyes darkened, reminding Emma of when she was the Evil Queen in the Author’s storybook. “Regina ended up betraying Rumplestiltskin and he helped us defeat her. We couldn’t very well leave the kingdom after that.”  

“No,” Emma gasped. “You would never do that. Yo-You would’ve gone back for me.” She hated how weak her voice was, almost no sound to the words. Her hands were clammy with sweat and she felt an ache in her chest she hadn’t felt in years.

“A queen must do her duties, Emma,” Mary Margaret-- _it_ \--chastised. 

The familiar feeling slithered under her skin and penetrated her bones. Her feet were rooted to the cement and she couldn’t move. The utmost betrayal had just occurred, and she repeated to herself that it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.

“Your biggest fear is still that you will not be enough for your parents. They didn’t raise you; they don’t know you, they don’t understand you. And they never will.”

The feeling sharpened within her. 

“You still feel like a lost girl.” 

She closed her eyes as the phantom voiced the title, the label she’d called herself for 28 years. Lost girl. Orphan.  

In a flash, the illusion morphed from her mother to...

“Hello,  _Emma._ ” 

Her heart dropped into her stomach. In front of her hovered a version of herself she never wanted to see, hear or think about again. The scaled black leather hugged her skin too sharply, emphasizing every curve almost unnaturally. Her face was white, her red lips the sole focus of it and her ashen hair was pulled back in a tight bun. The image was clearer than the rest had been, no part of it blurry.

“Your mother was quite right, you know. There’s still a part of you that trusts only yourself.” Her head tilted to the side in false thought, the movement slow, calculated. “If your actions as the Dark One were any indication.”

She glided forward on her heels and it took all of Emma’s strength not to step back as she came within inches of her own face. “You broke the heart of your own son. And then turned your pirate boyfriend over there into the one thing he never wanted to become, rendering every battle he overcame to become the hero he wanted to be for you, meaningless.”

“Stop it,” Emma commanded weakly. The insurmountable guilt she had been shoving down for months rose within her against her will, bile quickly collecting in her throat as her fears were voiced. Would Henry ever be able to forget what she did to Violet, to him? Would the town, her parents, be able to remove this very image of the demonized version of her from their minds? And finally, the worst fear of all: would Killian forgive her for forcing him into such a fate? 

There was no need for a haunted vision or a tormenting memory this time; she’d figured out what her final test was. She did not need to forgive those who had hurt her or abandoned her. She needed to forgive herself. 

Memories flooded her vision: Henry at her doorstep, wide-eyed and full of belief; Her parents encouraging her with proud eyes and hopeful words; Hook declaring to win her heart, and every look, every touch, every smile proving his statement true from then on.

_I’m enough._

The second she thought it, the Dark One vanished. She felt a shift inside her, like the last piece of a puzzle sliding into its slot. Her magic hummed stronger beneath her skin, fighting against its current prison more than ever before.

She continued while she was ahead, feeling her feet move as she spoke. “Do you know what he would say if he could talk, Hades?” She asked, knowing he was watching every second of this. Her eyes glanced between her feet and Killian. She felt a warm surge go through her, her magic acting as a beacon of strength. “He would say you vastly underestimate me.”

She began to close the distance between her and the center, adrenaline flooding through her as her heart pounded in anticipation. “Because,” she continued. “Killian Jones is not the pirate you diminish him as, nor is he what I selfishly turned him into.”

She was there. The tips of her boots were on the grated metal, the beam behind her already a distant memory. 

“He is the man that taught me how to love and be loved in return, through my family, him, and finally myself. And that is something you will never know and I feel  _sorry_ for you.” 

Her eyes discovered the pentagram shape hidden in the middle of what she had correctly assumed to be a massive gear, the flaming towers mirroring each point of the star. She gasped when she saw up-close his ruined clothing--her heart clenching at his hookless arm--, over the singed, torn, bloodied jacket, and finally to his face, so bruised, slashed, and swollen that she couldn’t look away.

_What has he done to you?_

A rush of wind blew back her hair as blue flames appeared before her. When they dissipated, Hades himself stood in their place. “Truly, I’m wounded,” he sneered sarcastically, his hand on the place where a heart should reside underneath. 

“I passed your test, now let him go,” she demanded, her voice almost a growl. 

Hades eyes rolled over-dramatically. “Very well,” he sighed, and with a flick of his wrist, a loud clanking sounded and she watched as five chunks of metal jutted out just under Killian’s boots, the pieces coming together to close the hole in the middle of the star and its threat of the river below.

She was about to run forward when she hit an invisible wall, nearly knocking her backward. She steadied herself. “Hold on,” Hades interjected, a palm in the air in a signal to stop. She futilely struggled in her magical binds to move, panting harshly through her nose, as her throat was held captive. He forcibly turned her head so she looked at him, her eyes able to view nothing but his ruthless, revolting grin. “Have your precious reunion, sweetheart, but keep in mind that this does not mean I will let you and your friends leave this world.” He sauntered up to her, hand still in their air to keep her trapped. “No,” he whispered, his sandalwood-scented cologne assaulting her senses as his hot breath brushed eerily on her skin. “I want you around for long, long time, Ms. Swan.” 

Air rushed back into her lungs and she dropped her knees, trying to catch her breath as he backed away. Her eyes found her wrist and that was when she realized his goal all along.

“Hey, take the cuff off!” 

The man threw his head back as a loud laugh bellowed out of him. Returning to his stance, he stared into Emma’s eyes and she felt her blood run cold at the outright insanity this man exuded. “Oh, Emma. What fun would that be?” 

With that, he disappeared in a cloud of bright blue flames. As soon as he did, she heard a sharp clink and she had barely enough time to rush forward to catch Killian before he hit the ground. 

“Killian!” Her arms wrapped around his stomach, his upper body hanging over her shoulder in nearly dead weight. Her fingernails snagged across the ripped pieces of his jacket as she frantically grasped him. She lowered them to the ground, her knees cursing at the impact of the metal beneath. 

All she could hear was her frantic breaths; she tried to calm herself enough to listen for any sign of him being conscious. She felt a pulse in his wrist and his chest moved, albeit slowly. She didn’t want to think about how much pain he was in or what terrors he had seen. She managed to shift him so his back leaned against the crook of her arm to support his weight. She used her other hand to lift his chin, cupping his face. His skin was ice cold. 

She choked on a sob at seeing his face close-up. It was almost entirely masked by blood, his hair matted and glued to his skin because of it. Her eyes traced every cut and bruise, following the trails of red that seemed to start in his scalp and end underneath (and on) his shirt. Then there was his neck, where the darkest of the blood seem to be located, indicating it had been open for a while. It looked too raw for it to be from the cut of Excalibur and when she saw bite marks, there only one answer--Cerebus. 

Her thumb stroked his less-injured cheek, the side with the eye that wasn’t swollen shut and she cursed not just Hades, but every god above that she was powerless to heal his wounds. 

“Killian?” She asked brokenly. She leaned down to press her lips to his sweaty forehead, moving his hair out of his eyes to do so. “I’m here Killian. Come back to me. I’m here.”

She focused on seeing his face when he realized he had a family to return to and the thought brought a small, if brief, smile to her face. “We all came here for you. All of us, even Henry,” she told him as she scanned his body with her hand.

She lifted the end of his shirt that was messily untucked but as soon she saw the amount of blood on his stomach, she tugged it back. She wouldn’t be able to tell the source until his clothes were off. She was quickly losing the battle with the tears in her eyes, a sniffled gasp escaping when she saw that his left pant leg was soaked with blood from his thigh to his knee. 

Carefully, she pressed against his sternum before moving down. When she pressed against his side, there was a sudden grunt.

“Killian?” she gasped, placing her hand on his cheek again. “I’m here. Killian, wake up.” She stopped herself from jolting his body too much as she didn’t know what would hurt him. “Please wake up,” she pleaded, her voice desperate and cracked. 

She stared at his shut eyes, willing them to open. The seconds felt like hours, but when they did, when her favorite shade of blue stared back at her, she felt her heart begin to beat again. 

His head jolted up, sweeping back and forth as if discerning where he was. He coughed, his breathing harsh and labored with short pants coming through his nose. She could barely see through the wall of tears in front of her eyes, her sobs releasing when he seemed to finally see her. 

“Emma?” 

She grabbed his hand in hers and squeezed, ignoring how incredibly hoarse his voice was and the reasons why. “Yeah,” she smiled. “It’s me.” 

She quickly helped him when he attempted to sit up, but kept her arm around his back. “Don’t move too much, your ribs might be broken, or at least bruised pretty badly and everything else is--and Hades took my magic, I can’t heal you I’m so sorry--”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he rasped and she almost rolled her eyes because  _he_ was comforting  _her_. 

He seemed to be able to sit upright, a small relief, but her arm was still supporting most of his weight. His fingers brushed so softly against her knuckles before he turned his face toward her. The man actually managed to quirk his eyebrow a tiny bit as he said, “I’m afraid I’m not my usual dashing self, love. You’ll have to forgive me.”

She laughed, and she laughed like she had been deprived of the sensation for months. It actually had been if she thought about it, and it hit her that she was here, that she was touching him and he was looking at her. They were together. She did it. She found him. 

A cold hand shakily cupped the roundness of her cheek. “I knew you’d find me,” he whispered. 

“You did?” 

He nodded. “I got the message saying you were down here, and I knew it wasn’t a trick, seeing as only Emma Swan would come all the way down to Hell to save this old pirate.” 

She felt more tears slide down her cheek as she couldn’t help but laugh. She kept his hand on her cheek with hers and gazed at him. “You’re  _my_  pirate, and I will always find you,” she said lovingly. That’s when she noticed he was crying.

“We have to get out of here,” she said quickly, sitting back on the balls of her feet. “I don’t know why Hades is letting you go--or what he has up his sleeve--but we need to get back to the others while we can.” 

“Others?” He asked, confused. His good eye widened then. “You mean...” He couldn’t finish and it dawned on her that he hadn’t expected her family to be with her. Her heart swelled for this man who still couldn’t believe how much he was loved. 

“Oh, Killian,” she said, stroking his cheek with the back of her knuckles. “Don’t you know by now that this family doesn’t give up on the people they love?”

His throat moved and he seemed too moved by her words to speak. 

God, he looked so tired. The more she studied his face the more she saw hidden beneath the blood the almost black circles under his eyes, the hollowness in his cheekbones.

“Oh, and...” She reached inside of the pocket on the inside of her jacket to reveal his hook, cleaned, shiny and with no evidence of damage. “I have something of yours,” as she held it out in front of him. 

His eyes shined and despite the crack in his lips, he grinned. Wordlessly, he lifted his left arm up so the brace was at her level. “Do me the honor, Swan?”

Her cheeks hurt at the force of the smile that came with the use of his name for her. “Can you sit up, okay?”

He nodded and she removed her arm from his back, feeling the soreness from having it in the same position for so long. She pulled back the frayed edges of his jacket so she could see the top of the brace.

“Just be gentle,” he joked, echoing the statement he’d said when she had held his heart in her very hands.

She bit her lips in a smile as she brought the blunt end of the hook to his brace, sliding it into the groove before locking eyes with him as she turned her wrist and clicked it into place. 

The sound soothed both of their souls in that moment. Their eyes hadn’t left the other and she couldn’t take it anymore. She rushed forward, throwing her arms around his torso, tucking her head into the good side of his neck.

When his muscles tensed from her force, she automatically loosened her grip but his hands pressed at her back as he cried softly, “Don’t let go,” and she didn’t.

They stayed like that for a long while, faces against shoulders, her hand on the back of his head, and soft murmurs of love in between. Her whole body sighed as her lungs finally relaxed, releasing the last of their strangled breaths. She was finally home. 

 


End file.
